Quodlibet: Introduction to: XXIV: Visions of Mary
Gray light, end of day
wings of fear blend into
dark mantling night
Swift blink, owl protector
thin dissolve
a shield
mantra of protection
Visions of Mary
Quodlibet XXIV
Light, light, O can you see
someone’s set a fire in the bottom of me
I know who you are beyond the healing of skin
nub knuckles smooth where fingers
If word be woman
woman on a chair
with a slash of teeth
coupled bits, turned down lip
face for age to grace
Seated front row in a round room
she prays when she’s told to
eyes frantic in a closed face
Gray light, end of day
wings of fear blend into
dark mantling night
Swift blink, owl protector
thin dissolve
a shield
mantra of protection
Visions of Mary
Quodlibet XXIV
Light, light, O can you see
someone’s set a fire in the bottom of me
I know who you are beyond the healing of skin
nub knuckles smooth where fingers
If word be woman
woman on a chair
with a slash of teeth
coupled bits, turned down lip
face for age to grace
Seated front row in a round room
she prays when she’s told to
eyes frantic in a closed face
Quodlibet: Introduction to: XXIII: Unfamiliar Kisses
Excuse me, my name is window.
Hammering fists may withstand
beat upon in vengeance
confirmation, sublimation, degradation
Each, smashed to smithereens, glass house aside
he waits for the press of her body
in the echoing halls of his mind
Unfamiliar Kisses
Quodlibet XXIII
It does, from a lover’s hand
come warm as greeting
a cup of tea, a caress
no uncertain message of stranger
yet the better when considered
never expected, taken for granted
Gestures, a tight-knit weave
though cold in a parting breeze
as death has a bit of all things
We are huddled at times indifferent
as the world slides by unnoticed
first a life smothered in kisses
finally a slamming door of days
Excuse me, my name is window.
Hammering fists may withstand
beat upon in vengeance
confirmation, sublimation, degradation
Each, smashed to smithereens, glass house aside
he waits for the press of her body
in the echoing halls of his mind
Unfamiliar Kisses
Quodlibet XXIII
It does, from a lover’s hand
come warm as greeting
a cup of tea, a caress
no uncertain message of stranger
yet the better when considered
never expected, taken for granted
Gestures, a tight-knit weave
though cold in a parting breeze
as death has a bit of all things
We are huddled at times indifferent
as the world slides by unnoticed
first a life smothered in kisses
finally a slamming door of days
Quodlibet: Introduction to: XXII: Smaller than Slaying
Elders and children
learning to know one another
that they are the same
So, the stream of life finds them
that one may save the other
Confirmation
the way they are made
to share
show the way
to here and gone
Smaller than Slaying
Quodlibet XXII
What shade of arrogance is ignorance
cursory conceit
The gnome celebrates a giant’s casual napping
fixes a tether end around the ogre’s possibles
The other end surrounds his own throat
He leaps to their death
the giant’s breath an imposition
death the only guarantee
in the end, shared equality
Elders and children
learning to know one another
that they are the same
So, the stream of life finds them
that one may save the other
Confirmation
the way they are made
to share
show the way
to here and gone
Smaller than Slaying
Quodlibet XXII
What shade of arrogance is ignorance
cursory conceit
The gnome celebrates a giant’s casual napping
fixes a tether end around the ogre’s possibles
The other end surrounds his own throat
He leaps to their death
the giant’s breath an imposition
death the only guarantee
in the end, shared equality
Quodlibet: Introduction to: XXI: Our Blood/Mother
The stepfather’s mouth said
“You’ve become a man when you can whip me”
Ignorance of slain innocence
Lover’s hand, at times, a stranger
madness in her eyes
monkey brain
spiders in her hair
Reaching for a hymnal
it crawls into a man’s lap
She wants to bite him there
Our Blood/Mother
Quodlibet XXI
She weeps of a morning
for a son whose father’s fist
spills blood; ain’t no innocents
no sacred faith bestowed
upon thin rips of violence
lightning stabbing blood veil lies
Humans play themselves as gods
rain hell upon small people
Built this boy a prison deep
a womb cold as rancor
walls shrieking, steel angry voices
Mother, she has fluttering hands
Tiny darting birds, they fly
kiss upon the wounds of sons
blood marker down
The stepfather’s mouth said
“You’ve become a man when you can whip me”
Ignorance of slain innocence
Lover’s hand, at times, a stranger
madness in her eyes
monkey brain
spiders in her hair
Reaching for a hymnal
it crawls into a man’s lap
She wants to bite him there
Our Blood/Mother
Quodlibet XXI
She weeps of a morning
for a son whose father’s fist
spills blood; ain’t no innocents
no sacred faith bestowed
upon thin rips of violence
lightning stabbing blood veil lies
Humans play themselves as gods
rain hell upon small people
Built this boy a prison deep
a womb cold as rancor
walls shrieking, steel angry voices
Mother, she has fluttering hands
Tiny darting birds, they fly
kiss upon the wounds of sons
blood marker down
Quodlibet: Introduction to: XX: The Other Screaming
Ghosts play the television screen
heart and fang share quarters
body slack, flesh reflection
Is it snowing or white sound
blood or mud on my hands
I hope so
Mud has dirt in it
tiny dragons
blood disease
impurity
Ghosts play the television screen
heart and fang share quarters
body slack, flesh reflection
Is it snowing or white sound
blood or mud on my hands
I hope so
Mud has dirt in it
tiny dragons
blood disease
impurity
The other screaming
Quodlibet XX
Comic caricature of death
a balm for the living
Corpses never rise, in fact
Birds have some knowledge of heaven
It is in their eyes
Slaves to flight
slaughtered on the man ground
lie fat butchered on his spread of table
We are cannibals all
dependent upon specific flesh
bodies of fellow creatures
Of course the plant screams
when torn away
its roots of dreams
Quodlibet XX
Comic caricature of death
a balm for the living
Corpses never rise, in fact
Birds have some knowledge of heaven
It is in their eyes
Slaves to flight
slaughtered on the man ground
lie fat butchered on his spread of table
We are cannibals all
dependent upon specific flesh
bodies of fellow creatures
Of course the plant screams
when torn away
its roots of dreams
Quodlibet: Introduction to: XIX: Closet Whispers
Let’s meet in the hall then
crawl out into the yard
wiggle under tall pines
whisper and share kisses
When winter is gone
we’ll slither out of our skins
run away naked together
Let’s meet in the hall then
crawl out into the yard
wiggle under tall pines
whisper and share kisses
When winter is gone
we’ll slither out of our skins
run away naked together
Closet Whispers
Quodlibet XIX
Tallest tree jungle forest
get these bugs out of our brain
whose lives are a circus
three rings and less
Youth, Christ we are old
Memories lure us to sleepy time
infect us with the wont
to go back to that security and sincerity
dark safe place, the unknown
tucked in and hidden away
Monsters have eaten our twins
spread them fast
on a breath of wind
http://wordwulf.com
Inquiries: [email protected]
© 2019 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2019 ©
Quodlibet XIX
Tallest tree jungle forest
get these bugs out of our brain
whose lives are a circus
three rings and less
Youth, Christ we are old
Memories lure us to sleepy time
infect us with the wont
to go back to that security and sincerity
dark safe place, the unknown
tucked in and hidden away
Monsters have eaten our twins
spread them fast
on a breath of wind
http://wordwulf.com
Inquiries: [email protected]
© 2019 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2019 ©
Quodlibet: Introduction to: XVIII: Latent Latitudes
Daddy called her angel
She danced around in circles
piggy tails bouncing
voice singing with the radio
I can’t get no
satisfaction
tripped into a table
broke momma’s favorite lamp
So, momma administered
some corporal punishment
Bottom lip protruding
arms folded in front of her
big four-year-old eyes full of tears
she ran to daddy in the driveway
“Why’s my momma such a bitch?”
He lifted a tear from her cheek
“Hell, honey angel
I don’t know”
She hugged his leg
“Can I sit on your Harley?”
So, she did
snuggled into the sissy bar
She snuffled a bit
favored daddy with a smile
thought to herself
I ain’t no angel
She was possessed of
Daddy called her angel
She danced around in circles
piggy tails bouncing
voice singing with the radio
I can’t get no
satisfaction
tripped into a table
broke momma’s favorite lamp
So, momma administered
some corporal punishment
Bottom lip protruding
arms folded in front of her
big four-year-old eyes full of tears
she ran to daddy in the driveway
“Why’s my momma such a bitch?”
He lifted a tear from her cheek
“Hell, honey angel
I don’t know”
She hugged his leg
“Can I sit on your Harley?”
So, she did
snuggled into the sissy bar
She snuffled a bit
favored daddy with a smile
thought to herself
I ain’t no angel
She was possessed of
Latent Latitudes
Quodlibet XVIII
Then mystery is dark
yet lies pale upon that face
both lively and sorrowful
She wears ribbons
falling from a nest of hair
whose branches display dignity
a tin twinkle of passion
preposterous twists of irony
They quite ignore her tender roots
aspire to reach the sky
where dreams are torn fresh falling
colors laughing
some terrible breeze
a prayer away from those
a wing
http://wordwulf.com
Inquiries: [email protected]
© 2019 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2019 ©
Quodlibet XVIII
Then mystery is dark
yet lies pale upon that face
both lively and sorrowful
She wears ribbons
falling from a nest of hair
whose branches display dignity
a tin twinkle of passion
preposterous twists of irony
They quite ignore her tender roots
aspire to reach the sky
where dreams are torn fresh falling
colors laughing
some terrible breeze
a prayer away from those
a wing
http://wordwulf.com
Inquiries: [email protected]
© 2019 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2019 ©
Quodlibet: Introduction to: XVII: Just Like Father
Jewels in her tiara
spider children dreams astound her
closets dark and jungles tall
She holds it all in until
breathless
she is startled awake
Monster Christ appears
an imposter eating her sins
the children’s pajamas
plants screaming
cannibals and birds
Backing toward heaven
no one notices
but her day is coming
She saw ghosts dancing
knows full well what that means
Jewels in her tiara
spider children dreams astound her
closets dark and jungles tall
She holds it all in until
breathless
she is startled awake
Monster Christ appears
an imposter eating her sins
the children’s pajamas
plants screaming
cannibals and birds
Backing toward heaven
no one notices
but her day is coming
She saw ghosts dancing
knows full well what that means
Just Like Father
Quodlibet XVII
She demands fair measure
what comes owing her own
holds it out against her
is appalled by father’s ignorance
his thick skin span of years
Warmed by the embrace of her man
quite fearful at deeper levels
a sneaking awareness
of the need to compare them
wears her pain like a shield
covets the jewels of her children
grace on one hand
pure as silk
spider’s milk
anger shifting
changeling
Quodlibet XVII
She demands fair measure
what comes owing her own
holds it out against her
is appalled by father’s ignorance
his thick skin span of years
Warmed by the embrace of her man
quite fearful at deeper levels
a sneaking awareness
of the need to compare them
wears her pain like a shield
covets the jewels of her children
grace on one hand
pure as silk
spider’s milk
anger shifting
changeling
Quodlibet: Introduction to: XVI: Galloping Sin
The problem is
well, they are numerous
The man who comes to save us
is the one momma lies to daddy about
the one we lie to momma about
Hell, he touches us all
in every private place
He is a devil in our flesh
a parasitical worm in our brain
a spirit-devouring energy sponge
Death cannot be as dark
He rode a tall horse
until it bolted and ran away
I saw it once in a cloud
He won’t let us look up anymore
All he wants us to see
is down here
is right there in front of us
The problem is
well, they are numerous
The man who comes to save us
is the one momma lies to daddy about
the one we lie to momma about
Hell, he touches us all
in every private place
He is a devil in our flesh
a parasitical worm in our brain
a spirit-devouring energy sponge
Death cannot be as dark
He rode a tall horse
until it bolted and ran away
I saw it once in a cloud
He won’t let us look up anymore
All he wants us to see
is down here
is right there in front of us
Galloping Sin
Quodlibet XVI
Hunter, gatherer
destroyer, we
fall prey to gluttonous appetites
lust, the broken wing, desire
fold a stilted bone against our breast
the breast father provides
no succor to innocents
meet in low dim-light spaces
earthen floor scattered about
dust motes lined down under the bed
clinging to the adulterer’s butt crack
bare-ass naked, throat full of blood
threatening gulp sneeze denied
trussed to the hooves of horses swimming
http://wordwulf.com
Inquiries: [email protected]
© 2019 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2019 ©
Quodlibet XVI
Hunter, gatherer
destroyer, we
fall prey to gluttonous appetites
lust, the broken wing, desire
fold a stilted bone against our breast
the breast father provides
no succor to innocents
meet in low dim-light spaces
earthen floor scattered about
dust motes lined down under the bed
clinging to the adulterer’s butt crack
bare-ass naked, throat full of blood
threatening gulp sneeze denied
trussed to the hooves of horses swimming
http://wordwulf.com
Inquiries: [email protected]
© 2019 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2019 ©
Quodlibet: Introduction to: XV: Children/Song of Life
Never knew a preacher
who stood down easy
except those too timid
to stand up in the first place
Tis a sad fact
that too many fathers and mothers
talk down to their children
There is so much
daughters and sons could teach parents before
they grow away from knowledge
the why they are here
pigeonholed and block-dammed
encouraged to be all they can be
most of what they are not
naturally
Children/Song of Life
Quodlibet XV
Listen to children’s voices
that all-day long song of life
Seldom see the stranger who
treads silently ‘neath the midst of them
Mourning service assembled
attended by bearers
One chosen, one speaks
of rabbits, alive in the heath
for the one taken
Children
what they long to hear
no rambling list of qualifier/quantifier
what you are and what you have become
rather who they are and that you care for them
Nomads learn to feed on the run
leaning toward moving spaces
http://wordwulf.com
Inquiries: [email protected]
© 2018 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2018 ©
Never knew a preacher
who stood down easy
except those too timid
to stand up in the first place
Tis a sad fact
that too many fathers and mothers
talk down to their children
There is so much
daughters and sons could teach parents before
they grow away from knowledge
the why they are here
pigeonholed and block-dammed
encouraged to be all they can be
most of what they are not
naturally
Children/Song of Life
Quodlibet XV
Listen to children’s voices
that all-day long song of life
Seldom see the stranger who
treads silently ‘neath the midst of them
Mourning service assembled
attended by bearers
One chosen, one speaks
of rabbits, alive in the heath
for the one taken
Children
what they long to hear
no rambling list of qualifier/quantifier
what you are and what you have become
rather who they are and that you care for them
Nomads learn to feed on the run
leaning toward moving spaces
http://wordwulf.com
Inquiries: [email protected]
© 2018 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2018 ©
Quodlibet: Introduction to XIV: Community of the Damned
I got to bathe first because I was oldest
My brother bathed last
because he was second of eight
and loved the least
That old galvanized tub of water was cold
and dirty damned bad
by the time he was plunked in
He was hardly ever as clean as the rest of us
Ah hell, nobody knew why
lazy lyin’ good-for-nothin’ cuss
Usually punished first though
he learned to take it standing up
leather whip belt on his bare bony ass
When he went to prison
his training paid off
He knew how to survive and grow
in a house of hate
Now he’s a damned good monster
experiential
Community of the Damned
Quodlibet XIV
Draw us a bath of muddy water
muted earth tones
name it life
Stir in children’s laughter bubbles
a lifetime warrantee guaranteed
Chromed steel handcuffs
turn up the heat; offer
amnesty to dead soldiers
a fistful of medals for families
who don’t give a damn anymore
sorrowing, whose heroes have been wasted
baubles and trinkets, a mumble
a flag to stumble, restoration
Suffer us less this cauldron steep
that we might survive to agonize
that final resting place
Eagerly aware of late, we are blest to
become divided amongst a community of worms
A gasp, a sigh of relief
to be equal and belong at last
They released my brother from prison by mistake
cost me fifty dollars, a whore and my new riding boots
then he turned himself back in
http://wordwulf.com
Inquiries: [email protected]
© 2018 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2018 ©
I got to bathe first because I was oldest
My brother bathed last
because he was second of eight
and loved the least
That old galvanized tub of water was cold
and dirty damned bad
by the time he was plunked in
He was hardly ever as clean as the rest of us
Ah hell, nobody knew why
lazy lyin’ good-for-nothin’ cuss
Usually punished first though
he learned to take it standing up
leather whip belt on his bare bony ass
When he went to prison
his training paid off
He knew how to survive and grow
in a house of hate
Now he’s a damned good monster
experiential
Community of the Damned
Quodlibet XIV
Draw us a bath of muddy water
muted earth tones
name it life
Stir in children’s laughter bubbles
a lifetime warrantee guaranteed
Chromed steel handcuffs
turn up the heat; offer
amnesty to dead soldiers
a fistful of medals for families
who don’t give a damn anymore
sorrowing, whose heroes have been wasted
baubles and trinkets, a mumble
a flag to stumble, restoration
Suffer us less this cauldron steep
that we might survive to agonize
that final resting place
Eagerly aware of late, we are blest to
become divided amongst a community of worms
A gasp, a sigh of relief
to be equal and belong at last
They released my brother from prison by mistake
cost me fifty dollars, a whore and my new riding boots
then he turned himself back in
http://wordwulf.com
Inquiries: [email protected]
© 2018 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2018 ©
Quodlibet: Introduction to XIII: Morning Voices/Music
Eyes in a leather face
ladies laughing and talking
a muddy bath for dead soldiers
medal pins
children playing
away from the herd
stallions drowning
Did you know she was strangled
her throat full of blood
drowned as well
Early mornings
I got up and walked across the road
half a mile or so
She’d have the coffee hot
Momma
having risen before the sun
to feed her bawling maverick calves
Some days I’d stand back and watch
listen to her talk to them
the critters she had rescued
then we’d share a cup or two
before a hard day of ranch work
in the Wyoming red dirt
I would trade a thousand tomorrows
right now
for one of those yesterdays with her
Eyes in a leather face
ladies laughing and talking
a muddy bath for dead soldiers
medal pins
children playing
away from the herd
stallions drowning
Did you know she was strangled
her throat full of blood
drowned as well
Early mornings
I got up and walked across the road
half a mile or so
She’d have the coffee hot
Momma
having risen before the sun
to feed her bawling maverick calves
Some days I’d stand back and watch
listen to her talk to them
the critters she had rescued
then we’d share a cup or two
before a hard day of ranch work
in the Wyoming red dirt
I would trade a thousand tomorrows
right now
for one of those yesterdays with her
Morning Voices/Music
Quodlibet XIII
A child playing
a man listening
ladies clinking coffee cups
the long leather of his weathered face
Their graceful laughter
well-nigh genteel
whilst the child’s fingers play
Sorrow and gladness ride the man’s features
An abandoned tear slides down his cheek
stops to rest on the lips of his smile
Mirrored symphony of life this
joy of morning living
instance of rapture simplified
complicity of random blessed event
http://wordwulf.com
Inquiries: [email protected]
© 2018 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2018 ©
Quodlibet XIII
A child playing
a man listening
ladies clinking coffee cups
the long leather of his weathered face
Their graceful laughter
well-nigh genteel
whilst the child’s fingers play
Sorrow and gladness ride the man’s features
An abandoned tear slides down his cheek
stops to rest on the lips of his smile
Mirrored symphony of life this
joy of morning living
instance of rapture simplified
complicity of random blessed event
http://wordwulf.com
Inquiries: [email protected]
© 2018 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2018 ©
Quodlibet: Introduction to XII: Prisoner of Id
Given instinct and impulse
there is no need for prayer
in the wasteland
in the wilderness
condemned and godless
stark naked mind-scape
No face fits loneliness
so, the masque is drawn
to paint its wearer
filter behavior
for those whose ego
demands they join the herd
The masque ain’t no
same thing different
Given instinct and impulse
there is no need for prayer
in the wasteland
in the wilderness
condemned and godless
stark naked mind-scape
No face fits loneliness
so, the masque is drawn
to paint its wearer
filter behavior
for those whose ego
demands they join the herd
The masque ain’t no
same thing different
Prisoner of Id
Quodlibet XII
Your skin fits you loose
like it is new
made for someone else
Have you lived there very long
entertained impossible dreams
Are your fingers callous
your face a holy place absolute
a very temple indeed
Do you worship there
Are you held prisoner in a house of love
The hunger of lost angels lingers in scars
shaped by your chains
Quodlibet XII
Your skin fits you loose
like it is new
made for someone else
Have you lived there very long
entertained impossible dreams
Are your fingers callous
your face a holy place absolute
a very temple indeed
Do you worship there
Are you held prisoner in a house of love
The hunger of lost angels lingers in scars
shaped by your chains
Quodlibet XI: Flesh and Blood
Quodlibet: Introduction to XI: Flesh and Blood
A man should stand up
and piss outside
whenever possible
enjoy private moments
away from societal restraints
claim what is his, naturally
a root rite of birth
Do it by himself
out of sight of others
or in the company of brothers
whom share his stand
ladies talking in the kitchen
steam rising righteous in the cold outside
A man should stand up
and piss outside
whenever possible
enjoy private moments
away from societal restraints
claim what is his, naturally
a root rite of birth
Do it by himself
out of sight of others
or in the company of brothers
whom share his stand
ladies talking in the kitchen
steam rising righteous in the cold outside
Flesh and Blood
Quodlibet XI
How this man rapes me
she breathes
not against my will yet so
He knows what I feel
which binds me of need
what frail stick I am
bound to earth, rapt of feather
Wings upon his tongue fly into me
eyes closed in a purple longing
that he might bruise my skin anywise
whip this flesh and spirit spent
dead-on blood, my lips
offering at once and denying commitment
blessed spirit flesh be damned
http://wordwulf.com
Inquiries: [email protected]
© 2018 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2018 ©
Quodlibet XI
How this man rapes me
she breathes
not against my will yet so
He knows what I feel
which binds me of need
what frail stick I am
bound to earth, rapt of feather
Wings upon his tongue fly into me
eyes closed in a purple longing
that he might bruise my skin anywise
whip this flesh and spirit spent
dead-on blood, my lips
offering at once and denying commitment
blessed spirit flesh be damned
http://wordwulf.com
Inquiries: [email protected]
© 2018 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2018 ©
Quodlibet: Introduction to X: Daughters and Daddies
One of those moments
specific and undeniable
fearsomely wonderful
ageless wisdom attained
unexpected and unprepared
Definitive experiential knowledge
the first time he peers
into the awesome depths
of her eyes
The most beautiful woman I knew
pale circus when compared to you
specific and undeniable
fearsomely wonderful
ageless wisdom attained
unexpected and unprepared
Definitive experiential knowledge
the first time he peers
into the awesome depths
of her eyes
The most beautiful woman I knew
pale circus when compared to you
Daughters and Daddies
Quodlibet X
Power of father
measure of daughters laughing
defined by origin
love predicated upon misunderstanding
gender dynamic
A minor miracle and a proof of bond is made
until she marries
and/or is out on her own
she will take him care
He may wonder at such creatures
apart yet such a part of him
sings to be loved by woman
these daughters
hand on one hand
take me with you
He follows
luxuriates in the myth of daddy
dissolves a bit
She becomes a lady
Quodlibet X
Power of father
measure of daughters laughing
defined by origin
love predicated upon misunderstanding
gender dynamic
A minor miracle and a proof of bond is made
until she marries
and/or is out on her own
she will take him care
He may wonder at such creatures
apart yet such a part of him
sings to be loved by woman
these daughters
hand on one hand
take me with you
He follows
luxuriates in the myth of daddy
dissolves a bit
She becomes a lady
Quodlibet: Introduction to IX: A Tender Wrapping
The tiny woman
wraps them in her housecoats
forces bunny slippers on their feet
dries their shaggy heads with towels
“You are old men now
in your fifties, for god sake
You have no business
riding those damned machines”
They sit on her couch shivering
grinning sheepishly at each other
Her two oldest sons
having ridden their Harleys
five hundred miles in the rain
to celebrate her birthday with her
She brings them hot coffee
loves them well
helps them roll their machines
into the dark warmth of her barn
The very next year
her bunny slippers are gone
and so is she
The brothers ride
Their tears hide the rain
The tiny woman
wraps them in her housecoats
forces bunny slippers on their feet
dries their shaggy heads with towels
“You are old men now
in your fifties, for god sake
You have no business
riding those damned machines”
They sit on her couch shivering
grinning sheepishly at each other
Her two oldest sons
having ridden their Harleys
five hundred miles in the rain
to celebrate her birthday with her
She brings them hot coffee
loves them well
helps them roll their machines
into the dark warmth of her barn
The very next year
her bunny slippers are gone
and so is she
The brothers ride
Their tears hide the rain
Elders and infants
learning to know one another
understanding
they are the same
dependent as separate hues
vibrant as each string
the chord humming
life
learning to know one another
understanding
they are the same
dependent as separate hues
vibrant as each string
the chord humming
life
A Tender Wrapping
Quodlibet IX
Standing up for pennies
All hail at a dollar down
these blankets
a hundred-pound weight
Strive to earn alive, a shroud
a safe place to bury your worried face
O children, learn to walk away
plant your garden seeds of youth
Be tall and good to yourselves
Those older, they look away
are kind and understanding
ever useful in the odd circumstance
such as surviving under siege
construction of birthing and burial blankets
Quodlibet IX
Standing up for pennies
All hail at a dollar down
these blankets
a hundred-pound weight
Strive to earn alive, a shroud
a safe place to bury your worried face
O children, learn to walk away
plant your garden seeds of youth
Be tall and good to yourselves
Those older, they look away
are kind and understanding
ever useful in the odd circumstance
such as surviving under siege
construction of birthing and burial blankets
Quodlibet: Introduction to VIII : Kisses/Mystery/Eternity
An old man
back against a tree
forgets his dreams in the shade
sidesteps into memories
sees clearly what was not
refuses to question what was
blushes when his thoughts turn to her
His leather paper-thin skin
red in the autumn
come winter of his life
finally, terribly alone
and none the worse for it
He recalls the twisted angles
primal howls
language of his birth
that it was she who taught him to forget
the now so newly found
Kisses/Mystery/Eternity
Quodlibet VIII
I am not about to look at your photograph
you are not an image died yet
Listen to the ringing of word
ingots piled high in our brain
a pendulum of centuries pealing
against our skulls arousing curiosity
There are those who consider mystery
the only true ever was
certain knowledge of this implied
lashed to the deeds of dead heroes
Thank-you, I would kiss your flaws rather
make mud on the dirt of your skin
An old man
back against a tree
forgets his dreams in the shade
sidesteps into memories
sees clearly what was not
refuses to question what was
blushes when his thoughts turn to her
His leather paper-thin skin
red in the autumn
come winter of his life
finally, terribly alone
and none the worse for it
He recalls the twisted angles
primal howls
language of his birth
that it was she who taught him to forget
the now so newly found
Kisses/Mystery/Eternity
Quodlibet VIII
I am not about to look at your photograph
you are not an image died yet
Listen to the ringing of word
ingots piled high in our brain
a pendulum of centuries pealing
against our skulls arousing curiosity
There are those who consider mystery
the only true ever was
certain knowledge of this implied
lashed to the deeds of dead heroes
Thank-you, I would kiss your flaws rather
make mud on the dirt of your skin
Dignity/Currency of Beggars
Quodlibet VII
There is no noble death,
living so singularly significant
that dignity is most likely found
hiding itself in fading faces.
Days tied on strings, end to end,
our lives, a dangle of fishes.
Never meant to fly underwater,
it just ain’t Christian to lie.
We make an effort to go outstanding,
twist and present ourselves
a convoluted truth,
opine dignity is the currency of beggars,
laugh about honor amongst thieves.
Dead folks don’t choose to be alone.
living so singularly significant
that dignity is most likely found
hiding itself in fading faces.
Days tied on strings, end to end,
our lives, a dangle of fishes.
Never meant to fly underwater,
it just ain’t Christian to lie.
We make an effort to go outstanding,
twist and present ourselves
a convoluted truth,
opine dignity is the currency of beggars,
laugh about honor amongst thieves.
Dead folks don’t choose to be alone.
Quodlibet: Introduction to VI : Television Dawn
The son standing in the hallway
listening closely
ear to the door
waiting for a commercial break
so he can ask Momma’s permission
He wants to go play in the yard
mustn’t interrupt her program
He feels it winding up
An expert at timing
he nudges the door open
The telephone rings
She answers it
dismisses him with a wave of her hand
She is weeping
speaking with her mother on the phone
The pretty man in the show died
They are afraid for the commercial to end
How can life go on without him
The boy closes the door silently
lays down on the floor outside of it
puts a thumb in his mouth
begins to suckle and drifts away thinking
He doesn’t like her very much
his mother
Television Dawn
Quodlibet VI
Window situated western
Nothing as perfect
so television dawn
echoes its sideshow
four walls gone
Her eyes are closed
Ghosts play tag on her face
hide between lines of age
The dawn she misses runs there
view-screen reflected flesh
blue/gray in the afternoon
This last promise
a thing broken
even her ghosts abandon her
Body slack and unvisited
nothing as perfect
so television dawn
The son standing in the hallway
listening closely
ear to the door
waiting for a commercial break
so he can ask Momma’s permission
He wants to go play in the yard
mustn’t interrupt her program
He feels it winding up
An expert at timing
he nudges the door open
The telephone rings
She answers it
dismisses him with a wave of her hand
She is weeping
speaking with her mother on the phone
The pretty man in the show died
They are afraid for the commercial to end
How can life go on without him
The boy closes the door silently
lays down on the floor outside of it
puts a thumb in his mouth
begins to suckle and drifts away thinking
He doesn’t like her very much
his mother
Television Dawn
Quodlibet VI
Window situated western
Nothing as perfect
so television dawn
echoes its sideshow
four walls gone
Her eyes are closed
Ghosts play tag on her face
hide between lines of age
The dawn she misses runs there
view-screen reflected flesh
blue/gray in the afternoon
This last promise
a thing broken
even her ghosts abandon her
Body slack and unvisited
nothing as perfect
so television dawn
Quodlibet: Introduction to V :Blood Trail/Lust
Dark in the motel light
vacancy
room for prisoners
saddle-sore cowboy truck-drivers
ravenous to mount
tickets to ride
Amerikana momma
rodeo queen
hotrods to hell
doin’ it with her boots on
ridin’ on the mud flap
tearin’ up the bed
She was a love child
then she was old
nothin’ in between
Blood Trail/lLust
Quodlibet V
Lovers born apart together
torn from a sheet of night
wanderlust
forests adrift
shadows
wisps of smoke
Fire dreams ignite passion
heated blood
illusion or not
When flesh is a flame to touch
desire becomes
the fuel of innocents
and sinners alike once begun
a hell let loose until fire
is the lesser evil
devours itself and all participants
Wolves are born to run free to die
no restraints, feral fang and eye
Dark in the motel light
vacancy
room for prisoners
saddle-sore cowboy truck-drivers
ravenous to mount
tickets to ride
Amerikana momma
rodeo queen
hotrods to hell
doin’ it with her boots on
ridin’ on the mud flap
tearin’ up the bed
She was a love child
then she was old
nothin’ in between
Blood Trail/lLust
Quodlibet V
Lovers born apart together
torn from a sheet of night
wanderlust
forests adrift
shadows
wisps of smoke
Fire dreams ignite passion
heated blood
illusion or not
When flesh is a flame to touch
desire becomes
the fuel of innocents
and sinners alike once begun
a hell let loose until fire
is the lesser evil
devours itself and all participants
Wolves are born to run free to die
no restraints, feral fang and eye
Quodlibet: Introduction to IV
Ain’t nothin’ new about the concept
weapons of mass destruction
Century after century
priests and missionaries have been sent
years and miles in advance of invading armies
bible in one hand
whip in the other
to enlighten, threaten and subvert
savages and barbarians
love ‘em to death
love ‘em to death
teach them fear and the art of
worship, worship, worship
When the warship arrives
the devil brother butcher
will eradicate those left standing
“Tut-tut”
holy man to warrior
“Keep the mission in mind
Land is worth little without slave labor
converts to bury corpses”
Gods and war
freedom to enslave
What is civil about civilization
Speaking of prepossession
predilection and antipathy
ancient professions
The Working Girl
Quodlibet IV
This woman, seize portrait
a grain, a cross, the beach sand of life
Legs apart, she sweeps them up
no smooth press click-flash-click
what amounts to portfolio
Years spent, minutes passed
nice work; what do you do for money?
Are we any less prostitute
prices fixed, wares displayed
selling whistles and paper airplanes
mortgaged asses in a sling
They are pimped to mediocrity
those whom judge the working girl
Ain’t nothin’ new about the concept
weapons of mass destruction
Century after century
priests and missionaries have been sent
years and miles in advance of invading armies
bible in one hand
whip in the other
to enlighten, threaten and subvert
savages and barbarians
love ‘em to death
love ‘em to death
teach them fear and the art of
worship, worship, worship
When the warship arrives
the devil brother butcher
will eradicate those left standing
“Tut-tut”
holy man to warrior
“Keep the mission in mind
Land is worth little without slave labor
converts to bury corpses”
Gods and war
freedom to enslave
What is civil about civilization
Speaking of prepossession
predilection and antipathy
ancient professions
The Working Girl
Quodlibet IV
This woman, seize portrait
a grain, a cross, the beach sand of life
Legs apart, she sweeps them up
no smooth press click-flash-click
what amounts to portfolio
Years spent, minutes passed
nice work; what do you do for money?
Are we any less prostitute
prices fixed, wares displayed
selling whistles and paper airplanes
mortgaged asses in a sling
They are pimped to mediocrity
those whom judge the working girl
Quodlibet: Introduction to: III
From suicide to dinner
a creature’s lusts and appetites
are blood/vein connected to its actions and deeds
The human beast is likely to seek groups
attribute and blame its behavior on peer pressure
decisions by committee
coven, church, gang, career
outlaws and CEO’s
heroes and miscreants
pod peas alike
self-serving
public opinion
a moronic collective
philosophy of fools
From suicide to dinner
a creature’s lusts and appetites
are blood/vein connected to its actions and deeds
The human beast is likely to seek groups
attribute and blame its behavior on peer pressure
decisions by committee
coven, church, gang, career
outlaws and CEO’s
heroes and miscreants
pod peas alike
self-serving
public opinion
a moronic collective
philosophy of fools
Bone Deep/Alone
Quodlibet III
Whom seeks to please everyone
fails miserably in due course
ultimately
embraces a pen-ultimate failing
possible loss of self
and that wandering peace
becomes a tone
a whimper
a sounding
bone-deep
Who am I kidding
What if we are found alone
the tiniest bit of wanting
verification of goodness
all doubt left behind
finally okay to be this way
damned and all roads leading home
Quodlibet III
Whom seeks to please everyone
fails miserably in due course
ultimately
embraces a pen-ultimate failing
possible loss of self
and that wandering peace
becomes a tone
a whimper
a sounding
bone-deep
Who am I kidding
What if we are found alone
the tiniest bit of wanting
verification of goodness
all doubt left behind
finally okay to be this way
damned and all roads leading home
Quodlibet: Introduction to: II
Uncle Max was a quiet man
a family-man
Came to visit me when I was a hog farmer in Wyoming
Spoke with him about my daughter
who was attending college in Colorado
Word had it a Jewish boy she was dating
liked to smack her around
“They’re coming to visit in a couple of weeks
don’t know if I can behave myself
when I meet that boy”
I confessed to Uncle Max
“Those pigs’ll eat a man,” he told me
“Say his legs are broken
they’ll kill him and eat him”
Uncle Max scratched his chin
“You have to crush the skull though
Pigs can’t get their jaws around it”
Uncles and Ants
Quodlibet II
This city rises up
His wife
is asleep in the trunk
Too many reasons to leave her
It swallows people whole
Generations are lost
dinosaurs tripping on ants
Where do the little people go
Now and again you just wanna run away
to live in the hills
Make a pile of dirt
and crawl on inside
We can pretend we is white folks
We got a history of uncles
sisters hanging from trees
Introduction to Quodlibet
The Hundred Bites
My great-grandmother
was a Cherokee woman
whose son hid her from my sight.
I never saw either of them in the flesh
but, from the other side,
she has taught me to seek the shaman
through the See and the Danse,
a swift eye-quest for vision,
his treatment of the warrior,
the Sun Dance and fast,
those hundred bits of flesh extracted,
ceremonial rite of passage.
Behind passion’s eyes such songs exist.
As a twenty-one-year old falling,
pool cue broken on the back of my head,
cue ball smashed into my mouth,
choking on broken teeth,
I looked up into a laughing face,
broken beer bottle gouged into my eye.
I heard her singing singing
and his Adam’s apple, “Yuk yuk-yuk.”
I lunged and had it at once,
that chicken neck thing.
Exhaustion, exhilaration,
as I dragged him to a corner
to drink his blood.
The danse had begun for me.
Native Amerikan proverb
The hunt is not a killing.
It is a prayer.
Dead End Traffic I
Quodlibet
Introduction
Our communication stolen,
prisoners and parents controlled by handheld devices
in the hands of schoolchildren and screws.
What the hell you gonna do,
Amerikan family?
Don’t ask me, fat boy.
You sold us out when the citizens voted you in.
I didn’t have anything to do with that shit.
I: Dead End Traffic
Friday afternoon,
it is a long drive home.
Woman on the telephone,
dead animal in a pickup truck,
stiff legs pointing wrong way up,
driven by an eater
of venison into the open,
trapped at once.
Maybe she’s talking to her man,
sure as hell can’t drive
That thing is stuck to her face.
Could be she’s trying to talk it off.
Ain’t no free rides in a land of gypsies.
http://wordwulf.com
Inquiries: [email protected]
© 2017 artwork, music & words
conceived by & property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2017 ©
The Hundred Bites
My great-grandmother
was a Cherokee woman
whose son hid her from my sight.
I never saw either of them in the flesh
but, from the other side,
she has taught me to seek the shaman
through the See and the Danse,
a swift eye-quest for vision,
his treatment of the warrior,
the Sun Dance and fast,
those hundred bits of flesh extracted,
ceremonial rite of passage.
Behind passion’s eyes such songs exist.
As a twenty-one-year old falling,
pool cue broken on the back of my head,
cue ball smashed into my mouth,
choking on broken teeth,
I looked up into a laughing face,
broken beer bottle gouged into my eye.
I heard her singing singing
and his Adam’s apple, “Yuk yuk-yuk.”
I lunged and had it at once,
that chicken neck thing.
Exhaustion, exhilaration,
as I dragged him to a corner
to drink his blood.
The danse had begun for me.
Native Amerikan proverb
The hunt is not a killing.
It is a prayer.
Dead End Traffic I
Quodlibet
Introduction
Our communication stolen,
prisoners and parents controlled by handheld devices
in the hands of schoolchildren and screws.
What the hell you gonna do,
Amerikan family?
Don’t ask me, fat boy.
You sold us out when the citizens voted you in.
I didn’t have anything to do with that shit.
I: Dead End Traffic
Friday afternoon,
it is a long drive home.
Woman on the telephone,
dead animal in a pickup truck,
stiff legs pointing wrong way up,
driven by an eater
of venison into the open,
trapped at once.
Maybe she’s talking to her man,
sure as hell can’t drive
That thing is stuck to her face.
Could be she’s trying to talk it off.
Ain’t no free rides in a land of gypsies.
http://wordwulf.com
Inquiries: [email protected]
© 2017 artwork, music & words
conceived by & property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2017 ©